there were no dwellings or signs of life.

The farther side of the plain was bordered by a row
of palms, and just in front of the palms rose a queerly
shaped hill that towered above the plain like a
mountain. The sides of this hill were straight up and
down; it was oblong in shape and the top seemed flat
and level.

"Oh, ho!" cried Dorothy; "I'll bet that's the
mountain Glinda told us of, where the Flatheads live."

"If it is," replied Ozma, "the Lake of the Skeezers
must be just beyond the line of palm trees. Can you
walk that far, Dorothy?"

"Of course, in time," was the prompt answer. "I'm
sorry we had to leave the Sawhorse and the Red Wagon
behind us, for they'd come in handy just now; but with
the end of our journey in sight a tramp across these
pretty green fields won't tire us a bit."

It was a longer tramp than they suspected, however,
and night overtook them before they could reach the
flat mountain. So Ozma proposed they camp for the night
and Dorothy was quite ready to approve. She didn't like
to admit to her friend she was tired, but she told
herself that her legs "had prickers in 'em," meaning
they had begun to ache.